I'm Not Me
by MyImmortal329
Summary: Takes place during 6X12 after Carol leaves Tobin's house. She's feeling confused and lost and seeks comfort in the one person she trusts the most.
Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead.

I'm Not Me

It always struck at night, that niggling feeling that wormed it's way from the pit of her stomach to the depths of her heart and into the forefront of her brain. Her fingers would twitch, and she'd crave a cigarette, but instead, she'd just lie there, staring up at the ceiling as the ghosts of her past crept in and reminded her that she was still alive, even if she wasn't quite sure what that meant anymore.

Her fingers twisted into the pillow case as she turned to her side and forced herself to try to sleep, forcing out the memory of pickaxes and roasted pecans and the sound of crumpling limbs falling into the tall grass.

She tucked one hand against the warmth of her lower belly, tracing the old scar from her C-Section, trying to feel something physical, something that attached her to the world, both old and new.

 _When I'm thirteen, I'll be a teenager, and I'll get my own job and my own house! You're so unfair!_

Tear-stained cheeks, messy blonde hair, fire flashing in those hazel eyes. Sophia had been a little spitfire, and Carol had known that early on. But Ed's disapproving looks and menacing ways had mellowed her out long before the end came. And in the end, she'd been so frightened, so scared of everything, as if she was terrified of what growing up would mean, of where she would fit in in a world where it wasn't safe to go outside for fear of not coming home alone. Sophia was one of the lucky ones, she knew, though it didn't keep the pain at bay. Sometimes it came in waves, and she'd cry for hours thinking about the baby she'd had, the baby she'd wanted so much, the little girl that seemed to haunt her dreams on the nights when she actually got more than a couple hours of consecutive sleep.

Her hand moved up then, bracing against her stomach just under her breasts. She took a shaking breath, recalling calloused fingers placed there, tracing around her belly button, tracing up over a breast, teasing playfully until she'd swat his hand away and turn to him, whispering secrets in the dark that echoed off of prison walls. Their secret.

And the tears sprung anew, prickling at her eyes as she squeezed them shut and willed herself to breathe. Just breathe.

She missed him. She missed _them._ What they were to each other had always been a fluid, changing thing. Companion, shoulder to cry on, refuge on a lonely night, friend, lover, sounding board. And she'd blamed herself for the change. She'd blamed herself for not fighting Rick, for not going back. And for a moment, she'd blamed him for not coming after her. For not disregarding his loyalty to the group and following his heart. But it had only been fleeting. What she'd wanted was a man of honor, and that was what Daryl Dixon was. And she'd known the second he'd held her in his arms outside of Terminus that while everything had changed, one thing remained true. He loved her. And she loved him. But she was someone else. She was a stranger to her past, to her future.

She'd thought maybe there would be time to heal, time to get back what they'd had before everything had fallen apart. But he'd pulled away, as if giving her space to breathe, to grieve. As always, he'd been what she'd needed, her friend who knew when she needed to discover herself. And tonight, she felt she'd betrayed not only him but herself. She'd reached out to a stranger, she'd felt a connection to someone who didn't know her, who didn't know what she'd done, and she'd kissed him.

And now she couldn't sleep, because tomorrow they'd be fighting again, and she might not live to see him on the other side. Or he might not live. And the thought terrified her. They were following Rick blindly into battle, and she knew that luck only ran so far, and they'd been running on empty for the last few months.

She was up again, pacing her room, moving to the window to push it open. She lit the cigarette and took in a long, slow drag, watching as the smoke swirled and disappeared into the crisp spring air. She closed her eyes, waiting for the hurt to pass, waiting for that one shining glimpse of self-forgiveness that always seemed just out of reach. She'd catch it someday, and she'd hold it strong in her hand, but tonight, her body had no fight in it. She just wanted comfort, and kissing Tobin had only made her feel like someone else entirely, and not like the person she wanted to be.

She shivered then, flicking the cigarette out into the grass, hugging her arms around herself as she rolled her head, trying to fight the ache weighing on her shoulders.

 _"Whatever you need, I'm always here. I ain't gonna push you. When you're ready, I'm here."_

She remembered those words, remembered him saying those to her the night after they left Grady. He'd been in his own mind, grieving the loss of another girl they just save. But he'd been there, keeping an eye on her, watching her, making sure she was ok as she fought the considerable pain that came from being hit by the Grady cops. She'd woken in a full-blown panic, disoriented and uncertain of her surroundings, but he'd pulled her close, and he'd held her, stroking her hair and promising that they'd get through it. And then he'd had his own downward spiral. It had been a back and forth, a split, and now, now it felt like they were strangers, like she was a stranger to herself.

But tonight, she needed to feel like herself again. Tonight, she needed that friend, that constant she'd missed so much in the last few months.

She shut the window and crossed the room and walked out of her room, across the hall to his room. Despite the space he'd given her, he was always close by. And she knocked, wondering if maybe this was wrong, if maybe this was using him, but her heart ached for him, and she missed him, and thinking of him was the one thing that made her feel a little bit like who she used to be. And she wanted him to know she was still there, because the truth was that tomorrow they could both be dead, and she didn't want this regret.

He opened the door then, eyes shadowed by the fringe of his hair, the way it fell into his eyes and guarded him. But he looked surprised to see her, like he'd looked at her that night at the prison when she'd first come to him in the night, first crawled into his bed. It had been unexpected but very welcome.

"You ok?"

"No," she choked out, before her shoulders shook and her fragile resolve crumbled completely just by looking up into his eyes. "I'm not…me."

"Yeah, you are," he promised.

"I'm…not." She shook her head, and Daryl took her hand, leading her into the darkness of his room. He shut the door behind them, and like old times, she went to his bed, and they lay there, and she cried against his chest as he stroked her hair. And when her shoulders stopped shaking, she raised her head as if trying to search his face in the darkness. "I've been pretending. I want to be this…this person that helps people. I want to be this…this…ridiculous person who smiles and bakes casseroles. But I'm not. That's who I used to be. I'd smile through it, hiding the bruises under my sweater. And tonight, tonight I kissed him. I kissed Tobin, and I don't know…why. I don't care about him. I just…needed to feel."

"That why you're here now?" he asked. "To feel somethin'?"

"I'm here, because the only time I feel like myself is when I'm with you. I pulled away."

"So did I. Thought it's what you needed."

"I did," she murmured. "I needed time to figure myself out."

"Did you?"

"No. I'm just getting started," she murmured. "But I can't do _this_ anymore. Pretending I'm not…that I don't need you." She placed her hand over his heart. "I can't. I can't do this alone." She kissed his jaw then, threading her fingers through his hair, and she felt his chest hitch before he relaxed and sought her mouth for a soft kiss. "I love you."

"You don't gotta say that."

"I'm saying it because it's true. The truth is that it doesn't matter who I pretend to be or who I am. You've been there since before it mattered. I love you. I have for so long, and I'm sorry I didn't…that I never told you." He was silent then, stroking her back in slow, gentle circles.

"I love you, too. And whatever you did? Whatever you had to do, you're here now, and that's what matters."

"I can't make any promises about tomorrow. I might try to push you away. I might. I might need a little help."

"M'here," he promised. "Ain't goin' nowhere."

"Good," she breathed, tucking her face against his neck, breathing him in as the feel of his warmth against her soothed her in only the way that he could. He held her, and her heart slowed, and the thoughts that screamed through her head in the middle of the night quieted to a muted ache. She smiled then, getting to know the echo of his heart again and letting it sooth her into a restful sleep.


End file.
